Kynrael steps forward, straddling one of the immense scorpion's pincers as he attempts to deliver a fatal blow to the dismounted rider. His face twists angrily as he cries, "Iodtau vau zain Erum-Hel cheth'gimpeschin kuff'memsameth!"

Celestial:

"Just as The Inheritor smote Erum-Hel to the depths of Orv, so too shall you be laid low!"

Argor gets a frustrated look on his face. Theres more than one way to kill a pest, squashing them usually works best...

He then steps up behind Kynrael, reaches into his spell components, and rubs a thin layer of dark grey powder over his hand. He mutters a quick incantation and the powder begins to glow. He smirks and says, "Mind the ceiling, Sir Dawantle," and touches Kynrael's shoulder.

Pork tried his hardest to ignore the battle and keep watch on the rear. He stared what seemed like centuries down the empty hallway, but finally couldn't resist the urge any longer and swivelled his head. The sight of the enlarged Rois towering over increasingly diminutive mite filled Pork with both horror and mirth, causing him to blurt out a sound that was a combination of the emotions "Baaaarh!" before firing another arrow.

Kynrael's eyes widen for a moment as the corridor begins shrinking around him. It soon dawns on him what has transpired however, and he returns his ire to the mite beneath. His hand tightens around the grip of his warhammer, and he unleashes another vicious swing - adjusting for the reduced amount of maneuvering room - at the dead scorpion's previous rider.

Enlarge: +2 Str; -2 Dex; -1 to Attacks; -1 to AC;
Kynrael's AC is now 18, his Initiative is 1 lower, and his hammer is dishing out 2d6 damage.

Kynrael grunts angrily as he prepares another blow against the mite. The thing is so small now I can barely keep track of him. Probably better if I stop aiming for precise blows and just flatten the thing! Gaining a new appreciation for his hammer's now immense size, Kynrael brings the weapon down in a quick strike.

Enlarge: +2 Str; -2 Dex; -1 to Attacks; -1 to AC;
Kynrael's AC is now 18, his Initiative is 1 lower, and his hammer is dishing out 2d6 damage.

On the mite you find a masterwork flail, short bow, chain shirt, light steel shield, a potion of cure light wounds, and two vials of antivenom. The scorpion is saddled with one of the exotic saddles you saw in the room earlier.

Argor looks about as of there is a new urgency to the situation. "Let us continue quickly. The spell on Kynrael will only last about a minute. We should take advantage of it while we can."

With that, Argor glances at the minuscule warrior they had just laid low as he walks past it. "This stuff would only do one of our group any good, given their shared stature. The saddle may have some value to a collector or the like, however."

The darkness clinging to the ceiling of the hallway attempts to mask Kynrael's features, though the result is an eerie result. From chest to head, he is cloaked in shadows - save for his eyes and halo. They appear as two silver wisps high above. They turn to regard Pork as the goblin's arrow finishes off the mite, and Kynrael nods in acknowledgement to Pork's killing blow. As the tide of battle wanes, however, so too do the telling signs of Kynrael's angelic heritage.

Argor begins speaking as these vestiges trail off completely, prompting Kynrael to say, "If we are agreed that the time for stealth has passed..." Kynrael approaches the nearest doorway lining the circular room and makes to open it.

This octaganol room is dominated by a large pit and four evenly spaced columns. The columns are segmented like the body of a giant worm or centipede. Broken wood, broken stone and twisted metal lies in piles about the floor. There are four solid doors into this room offset from the points of the compass. By the north pillar, there is a wheelbarrow filled with various garbage and refuse. There are two mites, smaller than the others, sorting through the refuse. The two mites see Kynrael as enters the north door, and run to the northeast corner cowering.

Argor shakes his head. "I have a feeling that if we tied up every one of these that cowered in fear of us, we'd run out of rope quickly. As I said, these things are generally accustomed to being the bottom of the food chain, so to speak."

He then quickly tries to size up the room and these strange pillars, attempting to make sense of them.

On the topic of the mite's equipment, Pork explains that apart from the flail and perhaps the extra bow he would have no use for the items. He suggests that they sell them back in town once the rescue mission is over.

As the party enters the room he keeps his distance from Kynrael, not wanting to get trampled. At the sight of the mites Porks springs to action, but when the rest of the group hesitates Pork pauses and listens to them. After they finish, he says "These creatures will sneak up on us and slit our throats the first chance they get, and mine will be the first since it's the easiest to reach. I say we take no chances." He then approaches the pit and looks into it, seeing if we can spot anything interesting or of value in the refuse.

Kynrael grunts in what seems to be disapproval before bellowing out a response. "These ones are a fair dealer smaller than the other ones we've seen. Might be workers. Might even be children. Regardless, they seem to be offering no fight. I see no reason to waste time on them. Tying them up might be worse than killing them if we don't find our way back here later."

Kynrael leans over the pit briefly for a second, checking to see if anything other than garbage or refuse remains beneath.

Perception Check: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

"There's bound to be more doors outside in the corridor. Probably worth a look."

You open the door to the room with no difficulty. No traps are set. The north and south walls of this room are lined with small piles of discarded cloth in rows no more than four feet long. Images of vermin destroying civilization decorate the wall, while at the east there is a haphazardly piled weapon rack.

Two mites are stationed with beetles at the north end of the room, while two mites sleep on the discarded cloth to the south.